Disappearing Act
by Screaming Purple Duck
Summary: Two years ago, Tony Stark's 16 year old daughter was kidnapped at the local park. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were spent to find her location. No such luck. Two years have passed and now they've got a lead on the missing girl who had been forced into slavery and sold to a very controlling elderly man. Hawkeye has the lead. Is he going to rescue the girl, or is she done for?
1. Prologue

-Prologue-

James stood, silently looking over the small graveyard. This family plot never appealed to her; decaying corpses of past family members all placed strategically so. She much preferred the animosity of public graveyards; the miles of straight, narrow rows. How odd that the everyday "normal," person could walk past their graveyards on a daily basis and not appreciate them.

She wondered, briefly, if that was how the everyday normal life worked. Walking past things that she would gladly kill to obtain. Animosity. Freedom. The word themselves sent tingles down her spine, making her flesh crawl in anticipation. The things she wouldn't give to live just one day as a normal, everyday human being. For freedom.

Heavy footsteps could be heard on the stone walkway. Her skin began to crawl, the feeling of dread settling comfortably into her body. She drug her lifeless eyes from the few rows of shiny, granite slabs to the wrought iron gate. Her body began to shake as she watched the man hold the gate open. She knew what would happen next. It always happened.

"Miss Stark," the large man said, purposefully avoiding meeting her gaze. "You know how much he despises not finding you in your rooms."

James sighed and looked over the cemetery once more. Oh, how she would kill for just one moment of freedom. One moment away from the crazy old man who now controlled her life. One moment with her father again. How it was possible to miss one person so much, she did not know; but she felt the sorrow and loss deep within the marrow of her bones.

"Please, Miss Stark," the man said, breaking into her innermost thoughts. "Come inside. It'll be easier on everyone involved if you just come back inside."

The young woman sighed and turned away from the plot. Two years she'd been here. Four months since she'd finally been allowed to step outside; feel the sunlight kiss her skin. She glanced wistfully at the treetops that she could see over the concrete wall that surrounded the estate. How lucky those birds were.

She obediently walked through the iron gate, making sure to not touch the guard in any way. After all, it wasn't his fault that she was stuck in this hellhole. There was no point in making another life miserable. As she approached the door, she glanced up to the main window. He stood there, stooped, glaring down at her. Her body involuntarily shuddered. His eyes on her body alone were hard enough to deal with.

With a shaking hand, she pushed the door open and stepped back into hell.


	2. Chapter One

-Chapter One-

"What the hell do you mean, you think you know where my daughter is?" Tony snapped, pushing his arm into the throat that was currently beneath his arm.

"Please, Stark," the man muttered as he pushed the older man off of his body. "You can't intimidate me. We've been over this."

Hawkeye watched as the man lowered himself into a chair slowly, palm braced against the table. Tony Stark had lost a lot of weight since his daughter was taken from him. It was hard to believe that it had been two years since the annoying brat had been plucked from their world. It was even harder to believe that he seemed to miss the annoying girl.

Well, to be completely honest, she didn't seem to be all that annoying now. Based off his memories of her.

God, she was pretty. And innocent. And gone.

"Don't play with me, Barton," Tony replied in a broken whisper, his arms wrapping themselves around his torso. "I don't care how mad you are at me. Don't play with me this way." His eyes grew distant as he glanced around the kitchen. "Not with her. Not with James."

Hawkeye watched the older man wince as he said his daughter's name. For nearly a year and a half, her name hadn't been so much as uttered around the house. Her name had slowly died off, only called out sometimes in the dreams of all those who dwelled in the house. James had disappeared, and in her place, a Her came about.

In this house, that name could be the worst punishment imaginable.

Hawkeye drew a chair out and sat in front of the weary man. "I threw out a line. A contact of mine got hit up on a young girl, age 18, tall, black hair, pale. We have reason to believe that they're finally making a move, Stark. My man, he thinks it's her. He thinks its James."

Tony looked up, tears shining in his eyes. "How sure are they?"

Hawkeye reached forward and clasped the other man's shoulder. "About 45%, Stark. Those odds sound good enough for me. What about you?"

Tony reached up and loosely encircled the other man's wrist. "Go. If it's not.. her, then get that girl out anyways. No child should have to go through that." His fingers slackened and his wrist fell away as he looked out toward nothing. "No child."

Hawkeye nodded and stood up. If the information he had obtained was correctly, the girl his contact had been informed of was going to be sold within the next 48 hours to the highest bidder. The old man who had been keeping her had gotten tired of having her around and was interested in new stock. Hawkeye's eyes hardened as he started up the stairs to his room to gather his gear. How one human being could consider the other stock, he was unsure.

His fingertips brushed the closed door of James' room. The room had been closed when the girl had been taken two years ago at the age of sixteen. It hadn't been opened since the police had come and finished the initial investigation of her bedroom. Almost two years and no one had so much as thought to open the door. He briefly entertained the thought of pushing the door open and seeing her glance up from the book she was reading in the middle of the floor to spit fire at him.

They would bring her home eventually, he vowed as he pushed the door of his own room open. Sooner or later, that girl would return to her home. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

And that she returned home alive instead of in a pine box.

For the time being, all he could do is push the door open. The hinges squealed their annoyance, the noise digging into his brain cells. The room was cold, curtains drawn to avoid the sunlight. No happy thoughts were allowed in this room. He slowly entered the room, feeling as if he were intruding on the darkest secret of the universe. A pair of red Chucks were tossed without a care near the closed closet door where she would have left them before… Before everything, he supposed.

He lowered himself onto her bed, feeling years older than was physically possible. His heart ached for the innocent girl who had been taken from them. If his information was right, there was a possibility that she could be gone too far. Couldn't interact with people. She could be so damaged, be it physical or emotional…

With a growl that rumbled from deep within his throat, he punched the fluffy mattress. He stood up, paced the small room. Regardless of her state, she was coming home. Tony needed her. Thor had been moping around, feeling guilty for being happy with Jane. He stopped his pacing, staring down at the photograph that rested on her desk, layers of dust and grime distorting the image. She was still beautiful, green eyes glowing with happiness with her arms wrapped around her father.

With a sigh, he gently traced the outline of her face, disturbing the two layers of dust. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he remembered that day. Sunshine and lollipops, no doubt. Until suddenly, there was no more laughter. Smiling green eyes had been replaced with tears and screams of those left behind.

_Children's laughter clung tightly to the wind, drifting to the ears of those gathered around the picnic table. James sat on the red and white checkered blanket, Thor and Jane's three year old in her lap. The toddler giggled and held out a hand, crushed watermelon clutched tightly in the dimpled fist. The older girl laughed and took a nip of mushy, watered down watermelon out of the small fist._

"_Auntie Ray!" the little boy squealed as he snuggled into her breast. "I wuv you!"_

_James heart melted as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you too, munchkin."_

_Her cool green eyes scanned the horizon. Thor and Jane were walking along the bank of the lazy river, hand in hand. Trent stood up on shaky legs, babbling about going to look at the duckies. With a resigned sigh, the girl stood up and chased after the bouncing boy. She caught him to her, making the little boy squeal in delight. He babbled, moving his sticky hands as he told her a story of a great big duck that loved all the baby ducks. She smiled down at the boy, not noticing the large man that stepped into her path._

"_Miss," came the deep baritone, making shudders go down her spine. "If you wouldn't mind, could you let me see that child?"_

_James hissed out a breath between clenched teeth, backing away. Twigs snapped under her feet as she neared the trees surrounding the clearing. Families kept wandering about. Children continued their constant chatter. She looked around nervously, trying to find a familiar face amongst the crowd. The man grinned, white teeth a slash in the darkness of his face. She turned and ran, searching for a place she could…_

_She looped back around, placing Trent on the ground in front of her. "Run, baby. Run. Scream. Cry. Run as fast as you can to your daddy, okay?"_

_Trent looked up at her, blue eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. "Ray-"_

_More twigs snapped behind her. She looked over her shoulder, could see the hulking mass of man as he came closer. She kissed Trent's cheek._

"_Run, baby. I'm gonna be fine. I'll see you later, okay?" She whispered as she looked over her shoulder. He was closer. "Now, Trent! Go find your daddy!"_

_Trent turned and ran. James took a deep breath and turned around, running back into the trees. Sparing a quick look over her shoulder, she saw the little boy running toward the water, screaming for his daddy. She saw Thor turn and run to his son, Jane following in his footsteps. The others turned from their various places in the park, starting to run toward the child. She kept running, chest burning from lack of oxygen as she forced her body to go further. Faster. She had to __**go**__-_

_A hard yank on her hair had her flying back into a hard chest. With a deep breath, she fought. She clawed, she bit, she yowled like an angered cat. The man behind her laughed murkily, dragging her further back into the shadows. One more breath in and, with tears in her eyes, she released an ear-piercing scream. With a muttered curse, the man brought his hand back and delivered a blow to the back of her head._

_The last sound that registered before the darkness swallowed her, drug her under, was her father's voice screaming her name. I'm sorry, daddy, she thought as unconsciousness tugged at the edges of her visibility. I had to protect him._


	3. Chapter Two

**Just so you know, this chapter contains some less than savory things. I have been trying to improve my writing style and, even though James is my baby on so many levels, I have found that I progress with her more than anything. This chapter displays some very awkward, very tough times for James as Hawkeye comes to the rescue, murdering her captor on top of her, saving her from one more night of torture. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it.**

**Though, don't worry. From here on out, there's going to probably be nothing else like this. I say probably because I don't plan out what happens in my writing. It just flows, which is why I am so emotionally invested in my writing. Sorry if this bothers anyone.**

-Chapter Two-

"What do you mean, I can't go?" Tony screeched, slamming a fist angrily onto the table. "I have to go. That's my daughter!"

Jane stood, placing her hand gently upon his shoulder. Tears swam in her eyes. "Tony, we all want to go. She means a lot to all of us. But you have to know that the best place for you right now is here. At home."

Tony growled and began to pace the room. Gods and men alike jumped to the side, nervously escaping the caged tiger in the room. Clint slowly backed from the room, watching Tony like a… Well, hawk. He slid out the door and walked down the hall, only stopping to grab the bow that had been placed on the hallway table, just for this specific purpose, two years ago. The weight felt right in his hand as he stalked down the hallway.

Tony's angry ranting could be heard from the main door, making Clint shake his head. The poor man. He couldn't imagine how Tony could be feeling. He'd always avoided contact like that. Having children, wives, significant others… It just made them a target, another way to get at you. It made you weak. _They_ made you weak.

He sighed, running his shoulders in a loose circle. Whatever his thoughts, he had promised the broken man in that kitchen that he would return the girl to her family, whether it be theirs or her own. Coulson stood, leaning back against the dark vehicle, sunglasses wrapped around his set face. He nodded once to the other man before getting in the passenger side door. Hawkeye opened the back door, turning once more to look at the house.

Up at her window.

With a quiet sound of disgust, he forced himself to enter the car. Silence washed over him like a wave, crushing him. It felt as if it was draining the energy out of him. His very essence. He shook his body slightly, forcing himself to focus on what Coulson was beginning to say about the mission. The man went on and on, his voice dragging. It was then that Clint realized that if Coulson were to narrate children's books, he would surely put them all to sleep in seconds.

"Which means, Barton," Coulson said, removing the dark sunglasses and turning to look him in the eye, "that you aren't going to go into the house to get her. We need you to be out with the bow."

Hawkeye sat up in alarm. "What do you mean, I'm not going in?! She knows me! She's going to want a familiar face, Coulson!"

"Trust me when I say I know, Barton," Coulson replied on a sigh as he slipped the shades back onto his face. "But at the moment, we need you outside, picking them off one by one with the bow. It's a necessity that we cannot afford to pass off."

Hawkeye glared. "Necessity or not, I promised Stark that I would get that girl out. Me, as in myself. Me, myself, and I. I'm the one going in to get the girl, Coulson. Put somebody else on bow duty."

"Hawk-"

"No, Coulson," Hawkeye snapped as the car rolled to a stop at the rendezvous point. "This is final."

Coulson threw his hands in the air in a _I can't believe this is happening_ gesture, a strangled gurgle emerging from his throat. If it had been a happier time, he would have smirked at frustrating the other man. But now… He couldn't afford to be light hearted. He had to prepare for the worst. If it was their girl… He didn't know what he would do, but he'd get her out. No matter what it took.

The car braked, the driver shoving it roughly into park. Hawkeye jumped out of the vehicle, cool blue eyes assessing the men who had been gathered. Each man stood at attention, dressed in black, staring right back at him. The soldier in him was impressed, the man in him, however, was not. These men didn't know that girl who sat in that house. The girl who probably was crying, shaking. Being…

Used.

He growled in his throat, stalking toward the house. The men moved, quietly falling in line behind him. The closer they got to the house, the faster his heart beat. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. His eyes closed briefly, calling to mind the picture of that sixteen year old girl who had tormented them all with her pranks, her tears, her laughter. Her long, black hair that hung past her shoulders and her sparkling green eyes that always sparked with emotion. The mouth that could cut you to the quick or laugh with you so quickly you didn't know what was going on.

Was that girl even there anymore?

She had to be.

The house came into view. The fence around the house was menacing, pure concrete, barbed wire at the top. It stood so far back into the brush it was surprising that his man had found it. He refused to think of those who dwelled in the house, of the guards who no doubt had kept the girl locked away. Hidden. They all dropped into a crouch, crawling in the shadows, sliding along the ground like a snake following its prey.

The closer to the fence they got, the more paranoid he became. What would he see when he found her? Could he bring the girl back to her father, alive? Was it her? Had she been there before and been replaced? Shouting could be heard from inside the house, angry, viscous words being thrown at one another. He crept along the wall, looking for the gate that his man had left them. Minutes ticked by, the men listening to the broken sobs that drifted to them from the open window.

They found the opening, creeping through the slightly opened gate one at a time, forcing themselves to not make a sound. The sound of glass breaking made his head jerk up, eyes searching for the open window once again. He could hear the harsh breathing, the heart wrenching sobs. He held his hand up, signaling that the men should wait. They stopped, the suspense so thick in the air that he could have reached out and severed it with the arrows that clung to his back. With a quick signal, they galvanized into action, pouring into the house like dark waves.

The sound of breaking glass filled the house once again. The men stopped, staring up at the ceiling, as they heard the high pitched scream of a terrified woman. His breath caught in his throat as the house fell silent but for the labored breathing from the floor above. Mattress springs squealed their protest as something was laid upon the one upstairs.

The whimpering that followed suit broke his calm, steadiness. He ran to the stairs, barely making a sound. The men behind him followed suit, going after the guards who watched over the dark house. His cool eyes barely registered that they stood against his small army. All he could do was find the stairs. Where were the damn stairs?!

"No! Stop, please!" the voice above him screamed, making his heart nearly stop beating in his chest. "No, no! Stop! Please, God, _stop_!"

With an angry snarl, he climbed the stairs, his body barely registering that he needed the oxygen it craved. He forced himself to run quietly as a cat through the hall, jumping over strewn lamps and tablecloths. The echo of a slap rang through the hall, making him go more than half mad. The scream that followed turned his blood to ice. How could someone do that to an innocent woman?

He could hear the mattress springs squeal again, the sound bringing clarity into his mind. He took a deep, quiet breath and slowly opened the door. He could see the man atop the young girl. He could hear her sobs as she fought, clawed, pushed, to get the weight off of her body. To get the bedroom back to herself again. The two on the bed didn't pay him attention. Who would pay attention to the slow creaking of the door when they were engaged in a battle such as that?

He snuck a hand around to his back, searching for his bow and cursed inwardly when he realized he must have left it downstairs during his angered hurry to find the girl. Tearing his eyes away from the scene, he grasped an arrow, for he knew that with enough force, that slim, deadly weapon could end a life. Creeping ever so slowly, he gripped the arrow tightly in his palm. Creeping… Creeping… Creeping…

He sprung, like a cobra jumping out from the brush to grasp a mouse in its jaws. With an angry cry, he shoved the arrow deep into the man's back. Deep enough to pierce the heart. He pushed the man off of the girl, to the side of the bed. She shrieked, pulling the sheet up to her breasts, eyes widened as she stared at the man beside her. Hawkeye nearly cursed, wondering where her clothes were, what she would need to escape from this hellhole.

"Is he…" the girl began, throat working quickly. "Is he… Is he… Is he dead?"

Hawkeye, still searching for something for the girl to wear, merely nodded his head. There was no way that he could have survived a blow like that. He could hear the wet gasps as the man attempted to take a breath, tried to hang on to whatever perverted life he had left. The girl stared, wide-eyed, as the soul slowly began to separate from the body. She clutched the sheet to her chin, shaking, as she watched the old man take his last, shuddering breath, using what remaining strength he had to reach out, brush his fingers lovingly against her arm-

She screamed, shrinking into herself, trying to get away from the hand of death. Her head turned back on forth, her mouth hanging open in an endless scream. Hawkeye drug her off the bed, pulling her to him in a fierce hug. She screamed and cried, writhing to get away from the arms that held her. No, no touching. Touching was bad. Touching was…

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you now," the man was whispering into her ear, hugging him tightly to his body. "It's okay. I've got you. I've got you."

That voice… She knew that voice. Surely this had to be something in her imagination. How often had she imagined someone coming to save her when it happened to her? How often had she imagined someone killing that worthless pile of human flesh as he crawled to her on the bed? How often had she pleaded with a higher power that she could escape, go home?

"Ha… Haw… Hawkey-e?" she whispered, her fingers digging into the flesh of his arms. "Hawkeye?"

The other body began to shiver. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here. It'll be okay now."

"Hawkeye," she whispered on a sob, burying her face into the curve of his neck.

"Shh, it's okay, Princess," he muttered, using her old nickname. "Come on. Let's go home. It's time that you came home."


	4. Chapter Three

-Chapter Three-

James sat in the back, huddling into the large coat that had been draped over her thin shoulders in the room. Disbelief still sat deep within her heart. She'd dreamed of being rescued for so long. Every time that he'd opened that door and called to her in that gravely voice. Her body shuddered as she drug the coat around her shoulders tighter, fingers digging into the leather.

Coulson had tried to hug her, she remembered as her gaze drifted across his profile. He had whispered her name and attempted to wrap his arms around her. Her heart ached as she remembered the hurt that had drifted across his face when she had cringed away from him with a quiet cry. She deeply regretted that as the older man had grew quiet in the front seat.

Hawkeye had held her, she realized, turning her head to gaze at the other man in the car. He sat, staring into the dark void outside of the vehicle. He had drawn her into her arms, fingers still slick with blood. She quickly realized that it was _his_ blood that had been on Hawkeye's hands. A ghost of a smile played across her lips as she relaxed her grip on Hawkeye's leather jacket.

Her heart began to beat a forbidden tattoo as they neared the Stark Mansion. She swallowed dryly, her eyes playing across the elegant contours of the building before her. Her father was in there. Her uncle. She wondered briefly if her mother was in there with the others, though it was doubtful. Loki preferred to distance himself it were at all possible from the Avengers.

Or that's how it used to be.

"It'll be okay," Hawkeye murmured as he heard her harsh intake of breath. "Things haven't changed very much, Princess."

She nodded as the car rolled to a stop in front of the house. The lights were burning, she noticed as Hawkeye opened his door and started toward the main entrance. All the lights were on except for hers. She frowned, looking at that room. She wondered, briefly, if there was any possibility that she could be that girl once again. The girl that had stayed in that room and wrote in her diary that was stuffed behind one drawer in her dresser.

"He's wrong, you know," Coulson said as he turned slightly toward her, worry clear in his eyes. "Things have changed. You have changed. They have changed." This time, he turned to face her directly. "But that's okay, because you're back now, right? We'll all get through this, kiddo. I promise."

She smiled at him, the pull of her lips feeling foreign. She leaned up and hesitantly placed her hand on his forearm. "Th-thank you."

Coulson lightly placed his hand over hers with a smile. "It's good to see you back home, kiddo. Now go on inside."

James nodded and opened her door. The scent of the night drifted to her, bringing with it the smell of roses and jasmine. She smiled. Flowers. She'd very much missed flowers. They didn't have any of those in her prison. She longed to delay going into the building, facing the people that had once meant everything in her life, for just a few moments longer. But, she was very much her father's daughter, and she pushed the door open and jumped out of the seat. The door closed quietly behind her as she walked around the front of the car and walked slowly to the steps.

She didn't hear Coulson's whisper of good luck as he watched the younger girl walk up the steps. She did, however, take a deep breath and climb the mountain of steps that lead up to the main entrance. Hawkeye was waiting for her at the top of the steps, standing to the left of the door, legs spread and arms crossed. She stood in front of him, not knowing what to do. Finally, she looked up at him, green eyes full of confusion and terror.

"Go on in, Princess," he muttered as he motioned to the door with a sweep of his hand. "I'll be right behind you."

She tugged the jacket around herself tightly once again, staring at the door. "Promise?"

His hand fell as he stepped up to her, grasped her pale hand in his. "I promise." He tugged her toward the door, placed her hand onto the knob. "Go on. Open that door." He released her hand and waited until she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

She stepped into the house, her feet padding lightly on the marble floor. She looked so small, he noted, as she slowly walked across the foyer in his leather jacket. He followed, closing the door tightly behind him. As he followed her to the kitchen, where the voices boomed as arguments flowed throughout the room, he realized there was a sense of ease in his chest that hadn't been there in two years.

She was home. It had finally sunk in. He was bone tired and all he wanted to do was climb up those stairs and crawl into his bed for the next eight hours, but he had made a promise. And as he watched her hesitatingly push open the kitchen door, he swore to himself at that moment that he'd keep any promise that me made to her.

"Man of Iron!" Thor's voice boomed with anger. "You mustn't blame Mister Barton! He only did as he was ordered!"

"And that was _my_ daughter!" Tony snarled as he turned to glare at Thor, angrily thrusting a finger to the God's chest. "I should have gone to get her! That was _my_ baby!"

James's hand fell from the doorway as the other two beings stepped into the kitchen and clutched the jacket around her throat and whispered, "Daddy?"

Every movement in the house ceased to exist. Hawkeye was pretty sure that nobody else in the room dared take in a breath. Tony turned slowly, eyes wide, breath coming in quick gasps. The other man was pale as he took a half step toward his daughter, not sure what he should do in this situation. He looked at his daughter as he stood before him and prayed for the hundredth time that it wasn't in his imagination. That she was still standing before him, tears welling in the green depths of her eyes.

"James?" he whispered, staring at his daughter.

James hiccupped, throwing herself toward her father. Tony lunged toward his daughter, catching her to his body with a sob. The younger girl clung to her father, sobs racking her small frame. Tony breathed deeply, his body settling into itself once again with an ache. His heart finally quit beating three times too fast as he clung to his daughter with the desperateness of only a parent separated from their child could understand.

His baby was home.

"James," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Oh, God. James… You're finally home…"

Those three words seemed to break the trance everyone else seemed to be in. Thor whooped, the sound of the booming voice bouncing off the tiled walls, and gathered the embracing forms in front of him. Hawkeye noted the tears in Jane's eyes as she pressed her hand to her chest, staring open-mouthed at the girl and that Natasha was wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye. He sighed quietly and turned away, quietly slipping out of the kitchen and walking up the stairs with legs that felt like deadweight.

In the kitchen, however, James stood, sobbing against her father's shoulder. Thor released them, turning and holding his arms open for Jane to step into and bury her face into his chest. Tony pulled back from his daughter, stroking his hand down her hair. James smiled, tears flowing down her cheeks. He grinned back, the movement feeling so foreign to him he momentarily wondered if he could still do that right.

"Sure, she comes back and nobody bothers to tell her mother," a voice came from the corner.

James spun around, her eyes wide. Loki stood, leaning back against the kitchen table. She squealed and ran across the room and dove into Loki's waiting arms. The taller man sniffled and pulled his daughter to him closely. He looked over her head and met Tony's gaze, and his heart loosened a bit. He could obviously see that none of them had expected the young girl to come back to the mansion that night.

For once in his life, he was glad that that pesky Coulson had forced him to get that stupid little device. What was it again…? A cell phone. Had Coulson not forced the Norse god to get one, he wouldn't have known that his daughter was back for days, at least. It could have been weeks. His anger flared once again at the thought.

"Mom," James whispered as she burrowed into his arms. "Mama I missed you."

"I missed you, too, my little one," Loki whispered back, kissing her forehead and basking in the warmth that had come back into his body. "I've missed you so much."


End file.
